My Kind of Town
by Trickster91
Summary: With the Justice League quiet, Greg Saunders takes advantage of that to work on his music career. Here he hopes he can temporarily set aside his Vigilante identity. Chicago says no.


My Kind of Town

Summary: With the Justice League quiet, Greg Saunders takes advantage of that to work on his music career. Here he hopes he can temporarily set aside his Vigilante identity. Chicago says no.

 _Now this could only happen to a guy like me  
And only happen in a town like this  
So may I say to each of you most gratefully  
As I throw each one of you a kiss_

 _Early May, Chicago 10:45pm_

A woman ran down a dim-litted alleyway as two thugs were pursuing her. She made the mistake of looking back as she ran, seeing that she was gaining distance, but that small relief was short lived when a third individual materialized out of the shadows and tripped her. She screamed as they picked her up.

"Please!" she begged. "I have a daughter!" tears were streaming down her face. "Just take my purse and go!"

One man slapped her harshly on the cheek. "Shut up!" his hands that were on her arm now started traveling lower. "Besides, we got better ideas. Maybe next time we'll let your daughter join in on the fun too."

She started whimpering until she felt a weight being literally lifted off her.

One guy didn't know what hit him. Literally. He felt a vice grip on his shoulder that yanked him off the woman. His face met a gloved fist as he was turned around. The other two let go of the woman as they turned to face their attacker.

Vigilante stood a few feet away from the remaining two, legs and arms spread out in a threating pose that promised a showdown. "Its quite like cowards like you hidin' in the dark attacking unsuspecting women."

The tallest lunged at the cowboy, knife at hand. Vigilante twisted his body to dodge, roughly grabbing the arm that held the knife and twisting it none to gently behind the thugs back. The man gave a sharp yelp and dropped the weapon. Vigilante then brought him back around and planted a fist firmly in the thugs' gut. The man collapsed, grasping his side. The cowboy's gaze steadied on the last and youngest man.

The young man turn heeled and ran for his life. He didn't get far as a lasso whistled in the air and hugged his arms to his side. He grunted when he made forceful contact on the cement.

Once the thugs were tied down and authorities called, Vigilante's attention went to the woman sitting on the ground. When she saw him walking over, she scooted away. He brought his hands up in a non-threating manner. "I won't hurt you," his tone soothing. The cowboy knelt down to her level and offered a small ice pack he had in his med kit on his bike. "I called the authorities and they'll be here shortly."

"Thank you," she took the offered ice pack to rest it on her sore cheek. She allowed the cowboy to lead her to a lighted street curb. They just sat in silence until sirens were heard in the distance.

"If ya don't mind ma'am, I better be scootin' along," he touched the brim of his hat. "Police here have mix feelings about people like me."

She nodded. "Alright, and thank you."

"No thanks necessary ma'am. All in the job," he started up his motorcycle and left just as a police car came up.

Three days in Chicago and he was already taking care of hoodlums. Greg was hoping to enjoy himself while at the Windy City for the duration of his record deal. Through all his experience, he should have known better. After his bike was parked in a garage, Greg headed towards his apartment. He might as well get some rest.

 _Morris Records Music Studio, 7_ _th_ _floor_

"You have an appointment with Mr. Sobeinski?" The young secretary asked Greg. At least she appeared young, he thought.

"Yes ma'am," he gave a friendly smile. "Gregory Saunders it should be under."

She started typing away at the computer checking for the file, but couldn't seem to find it. She offered a quick apology and tried again. After two minutes a suit clad man came out of an office.

"Oh, Mr. Saunders you're here," he greeted. Then his attention turned to his secretary. "Carmen, I thought I told you to direct people right in."

"I couldn't find his file," the dark blonde defended. She followed Mr. Sobeinski's finger to a pile of letters waiting to get sorted on the side of the computer. She picked up one of the papers and blushed. "Heh…found it."

"Mark Sobeinski," Mark shook hands with Greg. "And you just met my beloved pain in the butt niece, Carmen."

"It's a pleasure meeting you both." Greg nodded.

"If you don't mind following me in…" Mark led the singing cowboy to his office, chattering of all the ideas and public appearances he had in mind.

In New York, Greg's agent had contacted Morris Music Studio in Chicago on a great gig that he had planned. Both felt it would suit Greg to come to the Windy City to help extend his popularity and await adoring Chicago fans. The Prairie Troubadour had no issues with the idea and was more than happy to sign the contract and live in Chicago for the time being. Things have been going slow in the League, so the cowboy took that advantage to really concentrate on his music career. Unfortunately, taking a small break from the League did not equal to taking a break from being the Vigilante.

Where Greg thought New York was bad, Chicago was just about on par with his home base. He was well aware that he couldn't stop all of the crimes in the city. He did as much as he could, when he could. It was just another fact of life. The real issue arose from Chicago's views of masked vigilantes. Out of all the major cities the states had to offer, Chicago was the least tolerant of people running around in spandex. Because of that, Greg really had to keep his Vigilante persona as discrete as possible. But sometimes the cameras got a lucky shot.

"Would you look at this," Carmen said one day. She was behind her desk, feet laid on the desk with a newspaper in hand. Greg was on break and lounged on a nearby couch, coffee in hand. "Vigilante found and stopped the mass murderer of twelve sorority girls," she smiled, relieved and clearly happy from the news. Not that Greg could blame her. Carmen couldn't sleep for the past few weeks fearing that the killer could break through her bedroom window, killing her in her sleep. "About time that guy got caught if you asked me."

"Mmm-hmm," he hummed through the coffee he was nursing.

Carmen's blue eyes followed the print and looked up at the cowboy, showing him the picture the cameras managed to snap of the Vigilante riding away on his bike. "A lot of the cops are getting so peeved at him. That'll teach them to get off their butts more."

"Don't ya think that's kinda harsh," he mentally frowned at that comment while he cocked a brow at the dark blonde. While Chicago did have a bad reputation with corrupt politics and cops, he knew there were still good people that are trying to make good. "The law can only do so much," he'll admit though, he liked Carmen a lot. She was quite the character for a twenty one year old.

"No," she replied bluntly. "They just don't like a random guy wearing a cowboy hat doing a better job than they are. And he's only one person compared to…how many police officers are there around here?" she asked rhetorically.

Extending his legs, Greg rested his free arm on the top of the couch. "So what do you think of him, uh, Vigilante?"

"Honestly?" he nodded as Carmen flipped the paper to look at the street photo. "Considering the fact that there are not a lot of good pictures of him here…I say he has a really nice looking butt."

He had to laugh at that. "No really!" Carmen pointed at the picture. "That is the ass of a well toned guy."

Mark came in, and with a rolled 'Times' magazine, gave his niece a firm ' _thunk_ ' on her head, "Get your feet off the desk".

She complied but not without stating, "No one is here anyway."

"Not the point," Mark countered. "If she does something that bothers you Greg, you have my blessing to kick her butt."

"Shucks Mark," Greg chuckled as he got up. "She bothers me none."

"Yeah, yeah. Of course it wouldn't bother a country bumpkin like you," Mark joked, and right before the two enter the studio he turned around and pointed a finger at the young adult. "Carmen, when I come out I better see you work on those files and not Robot Unicorn Attack."

"Unless if I finish early."

"No. If you finish early, you're suppose to sit here and look bored," Mark stuck his tongue out when his niece did.

Once inside, Greg had an amused expression. "I gotta say I've grown fond of you both within these past two months," it was great seeing an uncle and niece have a strong bond and allowing time for goofiness between work periods. It reminded him of his close bond with his late baby brother.

"Likewise," Mark commented while going through some papers. "She's proven to be a good honest hard worker. Carmen's been having a hard time finding a job, so my sister asked if she could work for me. I certainly can't complain."

The singing cowboy adjusted his guitar. "Hey Mark. I think I have a good idea for a public appearance…"

 _September_

Five months after that, The Prairie Troubadour was becoming a huge hit in the Chicago land area. He made appearances on TV, Millennium Park, the Loop, and a few charity events. He was glad he could make the crowd happy and see smiles on peoples' faces. Other than a couple small missions, the League has been quiet. Super villain activity has been slow since the invasion of Darkseid. He really had to force himself to concentrate on his music more. Chicago was making that difficult, but Greg had to suppress the urge unless an emergency strikes.

"You sure?" Carmen looked up from the computer double-checking she heard the man clearly. "Cause I have no problems getting us lunch."

"Won't be a problem," Greg shrugged on his coat. "Think of it as returning the favor after runnin' around doing some errands for us for the last few months. Been needing to get some fresh air anyway," he glanced back at Carmen. "So what do you want?"

"Yes, nothing beats fresh city smog to clear your lungs," she took out her wallet. "Well if you're going by Wendy's, I'll have a bacon cheeseburger meal, with a medium Sprite," she handed him the money, but Greg shook it off.

"My treat," he smiled. "If Mark comes back from his meeting before I do, let him know I'll be right back."

"Sure, I'll tell him you're bumming around," she goes back to her typing. "He'll love hearing that."

An aloof smile splayed upon his features. "No kids toy for you then," he touch the brim of his brown Stetson and headed for the elevator. When he exited the building, Greg passed by a dark haired woman with a camera shrugged around her neck that just got through the revolving doors.

Carmen was messing around on the computer when the lady approached her. "Mr. Sobeinski wouldn't mind a surprise interview would he?"

The dark blonde glanced up and gave a smile. "You're Lois Lane," this was a surprised. "What are you doing far from Metropolis?"

Lois brushed a strand of hair away that was sticking to her face. "In the flesh," she exchanged a smile of her own. "Just visiting some relatives when the Daily Planet called and bothered me to interview Sobeinski and Saunders."

"Mr. Sobeinski is out in a meeting, and it might be awhile. And you just missed Greg," Carmen got up. "Do you want me to get you some coffee or anything to eat?"

Lois just waved the offer off and casually plopped down on the couch. "I'm fine. I can wait. Besides, if it's okay with you I could do with some female company."

 _Later_

Greg returned about forty-five minutes later, with a Wendy's bag in his hand. Right before he enters the elevator, he took notice of a man arguing with a person at the front desk. He gave a small frown, but the guy at the desk seemed to be handling himself okay, so Greg punched the seven button. The sight that greeted him was two women lounging on the couch casually talking about whatever.

"Got ya your lunch," Greg tossed the bag at Carmen.

"Well aren't you a gentleman," the dark hair woman from earlier got up and shook hands with Greg. "Lois Lane from the Daily Planet."

"Ah well, I try to be. She don't make it easy," Greg joked as his head gestured towards the offending young lady, who just shoved a bunch fries in her mouth. "Greg Saunders."

They all talked for a while. Lois was waiting for Mark to return to get the okay for an interview. Everything was going well until the elevator door slid open and the same man Greg saw early entered the room, with a small gun raised. Slowly and cautiously the trio stood up, hands raised.

If he were in his duds, Greg would have raised his revolvers in hopes to ward the man off, and at least away from the two women. The man was too far off for Greg to tackle the gun away from his hand. By observation, this man clearly wasn't use to handling firearms. His eyes were wide, bloodshot and crazed looking; possibly drunk, high, not all there, or a mixer of both. He looked like he just threw on whatever was near him for clothes. From Greg's experience, this man was more dangerous than a master gunman. Gregs' gaze went to Lois on his right and Carmen, who was standing off ways. They were both calm. For now anyway.

"Where's Mark Sobeinski?" the gunman's voice was shaky, as well as the gun in hand.

"He's out," Greg stated through gritted teeth. Subconsciously he slowly positioned himself in front of Lois. Carmen, a couple meters from the desk, seemed to go unnoticed. "Just put the gun down before somebody gets hurt."

"It's his fault," the man babbled, oblivious to Greg's comment.

"I'm sure you can talk to Mark _civilly_ about whatever the problem is," Lois tried to soothe. She wondered if the man was more confused or scared just by the way he was acting. Clearly he wasn't right in the head.

At this point Carmen was slowly inching her way to the desk. If she could just hit the security button underneath, they'll get this loon out of here.

Greg kept the dark blonde in his peripheral, not wanting to draw attention to her. The man was babbling nonsense while slowly backing up to the stair exit. He notice Lois looking at something and gave a startled yelp when he finally saw the third person just magically appear in his vision reaching down towards the desk.

The only warning Carmen received was the man's yelp followed by a loud thundering noise, and a short sharp pain vibrating through her chest. She was able to hit the button just as she went down.

In a matter of seconds Greg watched horror struck as Carmen's back hit the edge of the desk as another bullet tore into her right shoulder. The desk got a small christening of blood as the bullet exited through the other side. He shoved Lois to the ground as another bullet flew past her head. Greg lunged for the man, but he already disappeared behind the door. He gave a curse before running to Carmen, who laid limp over the corner edge of the desk.

Gingerly, he picked the young woman up and placed her on the couch. "Easy. Easy now," Greg soothed when Carmen started struggling in panic and coughing. A thin line of blood came out of her mouth.

"Oh my god, oh my god," Lois paced back and forth, her mind going at a blank of what just occurred. The screams of panic echoed through out the building with more gunshots.

Greg tore off the brown bandana at his neck and placed it firmly over Carmen's chest, which was starting to bleed profusely. He beckoned Lois over. "I need ya to keep a firm hand on this until the bleeding slows and stops," Lois didn't even hesitate. "Carmen," he lightly tapped her cheek. "Carmen, darlin', look at me," he worried when her eyes started to loose focus, but she managed to look directly into Greg's worried, but calm, deep blue ones. "Ya need ta stay awake. Try to stay awake," Carmen gave a weak nod.

Lois glanced up when she felt Greg's hand on her shoulder. "I'm getting help. Hang tight and keep pressure on that."

She wasn't an idiot, but Lois knew this wasn't the time to argue. "Be careful," Lois didn't know how long she kept the wound compress when Greg left. Five minutes, ten…half an hour, who knew? All she was aware of was talking to Carmen, trying to keep her conscious; trying to help the poor girl ignore the pain she must've been feeling. She wished this was Metropolis so Superman could fly in, subdue the lunatic and fly Carmen to the hospital at lightening speed.

When the bleeding just about stopped, Lois looked at the camera hanging around her neck. She wasn't a photographer. She considered herself lucky that she knew how to work disposables. Since she was here, the Daily Planet trusted her to take simple pictures of Greg. But now? There was bigger news.

Getting up, Lois backed up to the door and brought her camera up. She snapped a couple photos of the down girl and some of the blood stain desk. The public had to know the damage this crazed man caused. Even if it wouldn't go in the paper, then at least it'll be useful for police reports and medical.

The second Lois left her side, Carmen weakly turned her head to the door in panic. "Don't…don't leave me…please."

Lois rushed back to her side and gently placed the young woman's hand in her own. "It's alright. Everything will be okay. Help is on the way," she glanced worriedly at the door Greg exited. "Whatever you're going to do, do it fast," she whispered. "I don't know how long Carmen will be able to hang on."

 _Meanwhile_

As soon as Carmen was in Lois's care, Greg rushed to his belongings in a room nearby. He opened up his guitar case and popped open a secret compartment on the bottom. Within the compartment was various knives, magazines, his colt revolvers, and his red bandana that laid over the objects. He unbuttoned his casual shirt to reveal Vigilante's blue one. He replaced his brown Stetson with his white one, threw on his gloves and was out the door in a matter of twenty seconds.

With one of his guns drawn he ran down the stairs into one of the joining hallways. He was pleasantly surprised that there was no additional bodies lying around save for one person clutching his shoulder with a woman tending to the wound. The man's wound looked to be more on the side of just painful than life threatening. They both startled at the sight of him but calmed down when they realized the cowboy wasn't a threat.

"I heard him go back down to the main lobby," the injured man said.

Vigilante nodded. "Hang tight. The paramedics are on their way," with that he went back to the stairs and ran down to the entrance of the building. He paused, turning his head surveying the room. His eyes widened when he saw a pair of legs jutted out of the side of the front desk. He ran over and saw the man from early lying on the ground. He knelt down, feeling for a pulse on the neck. Vigilante let out a relieved breath when he felt one. Upon closer inspection he saw a gash on the man's head. Pistoled whipped, and it just happened recently too. He'll most likely have a nasty headache when he comes to, but he'll live.

He stood up and surveyed the room once more. Trying to find clues. A whimper brought his attention to the 'employees only' door off to the side. Eyes narrow, both guns drawn he slowly made his way over. Cautiously he opened the door to see the offending man in a fetal position in the far corner, crying.

When the man noticed Vigilante through his tears, he shakily started to get up.

"Stay down if ya know what's good for you," the cowboy ordered none too gentle. "Ya done enough harm."

Startle the man fell back on his hunches. Sniffling. "I…I didn't mean to do it. I didn't mean to hurt them…to hurt her. I just wanted to talk," at this he shakily brought his gun up. He gave a cry as the gun was shot out of his hand, the harsh vibration hurting the hand that held it. He cradled his hand when Vigilante dove straight at him, harshly turning him around and tying his hands behind his back and then his feet.

"You'll have a lot of time to talk when the police arrive," with that Vigilante threw the hogtied madman in the middle of the lobby floor. The sounds of sirens pulling up greeted his ears. Carefully he dragged the pistol-whipped man out in the open into view for the paramedics before running up to the 7th floor.

He wasn't sure how many people were injured. It appeared those who heard the shots wisely locked themselves up in the various rooms the building had to offer, from the clues of darken windows that normally shown light. Now that the threat has been stabilized, he needed to check on how Lois was doing with Carmen. "Hang in there lil' filly, please."

Lois shot her head up when the door was practically thrown open. Instinctively she hovered over Carmen in an attempt to protect. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at the cowboy that entered. He didn't seem like a threat, but she wasn't going to take any chances. "Who are you?" she demanded. "Stay away from us!"

Vigilante threw his hands up. "The name's Vigilante, ma'am," he briefly touched the brim of his hat. "I'm with the Justice League," when the tension in her posture died down, did he walk up and knelt down with one knee, inspecting the down girl. "How is she holding up?"

"I…I honestly don't know," Lois lamented. "Not good. I've managed to keep her awake, but she's delirious," she looked down at Carmen, feeling tears started to prick at her eyes. "I think she's fading away," this girl who she knew for practically less than two hours is dying in front of her. She's been in her fair share of trouble, but this was the first that someone was actively dying in her presence.

Gently, Vigilante felt Carmen's wrist for a pulse. His eyes narrowed. Deliriously she turned her head and her eyes directly gazed into the cowboy's. "Ya still gotta hang in there darlin'," deftly, he scooped her up.

"What are you doing!?" Lois was outraged. "You can't move her in the condition she's in! The paramedics will be up here in a matter of minutes."

"If we wait there ain't gonna be no one for the paramedics to save," he retorted and headed for the stair exit. "Time is a luxury she don't have," with that he ran as fast as he was able down the stairs. He nearly ran into a couple police officers and paramedics. "Here," he laid Carmen on the stretcher. "She's in bad shape and needs urgent care," the duo watch as the paramedics carried her out into the ambulance.

Vigilante turn when he heard a familiar voice. "Carmen!" Mark ran out and would've made it straight to the ambulance if the cowboy didn't stop him. "Let me go! That's my niece. Oh God! Carmen!"

"There's nothing you can do," Vigilante stated. Though he was more troubled than he let on. "It's all in the doctors' hands now."

Mark stood there, feeling defeated. His eyes were glazed over, as though staring in the same direction the ambulance went would bring his niece back. His thoughts sobered slightly as he turned to face the hero. He noticed Lois Lane before looking back at the cowboy. "Where is Greg? Did he get out?"

"Yes sir," he nodded. "He bumped into me while getting help and I refused to let him back in," he looked at the remaining cops and paramedics milling about. One officer approached the trio. Well, he couldn't escape this one.

 _A few weeks later_

Greg was on break. He rested on the newly refurbish couch of the little office lobby, idly strumming his guitar with no particular tune in mind. He eyed the stranger at the desk that was supposed to be Carmen's territory. It was a quiet month. The kind of quiet that reminded him of the sobering reality of what happened a little over a month ago. The temporary secretary was typing away. He was a quiet sort. He was dutiful, to a fault, but dull compare to the bubbly personality of the former.

The cowboy forced his gaze away to look out the window instead. Lois Lane didn't exactly get the interview she wanted. She got much more to her chagrin. The reporter did praise Greg Saunders for his quick thinking of handling the shoot out and responding accordingly of the damage seconds afterwards. She then gave the Vigilante accolades of handling the mad man and his quick thinking that ultimately saved Carmen's life. Front page on the Tribune and just about everywhere else. He found out the shooter was being committed to a mental institution.

Greg did visit Carmen a couple weeks back when she was still in the hospital. He was relieved to see she was rebounding well from her injuries. She was the worst off compare to the other two injuries the building received. Not only did she have some ligament damage to her shoulder but also a punctured lung. Though she was now out of the hospital, she had to remain home to recuperate further. Mark had said it probably wouldn't be till some time next week before he even allowed Carmen back at the job. Till then, they had this bundle of personality of a secretary to deal with.

Greg's contract was ending in a week and he hoped he'll see Carmen again before…

"I LIVE!" the secretary and Greg's head both shot up in the direction as a familiar dark blonde came strutting up out of the elevator hands raised in victory.

Guitar all but abandon on the couch, the cowboy ran up and gave the girl a hug. Carmen happily leaned into it, mindful of her right shoulder. "Carmen! It's good ta see you, girl," he stood back. "Ya ain't suppose to be here for another week."

"Yeah, well," she shrugged and gave an aloof smile. "I heard you're going to be leaving Chicago soon and I wanted to say goodbye. I get huffy when people don't say goodbye."

"Shoot, I would've found ya before leavin'. I wouldn't do that."

"Is Uncle Mark here?"

"He's out in another meeting," they turned their hands to see the temporary secretary standing up, papers in hand. "It's a good thing too, cause he'll throw a fit if he sees you out and about. Last I heard, you're suppose to be resting."

Carmen gave a huff. "Thank you for keeping my chair warm for me, Michael. Don't get too comfy," a cheeky smile formed on her features. "Do you want to see the spot where my blood landed on there?"

"Ugh," Michael walked over to the door leading out to a hallway. "I am going to fax these and take a coffee break. When I come back, you're not here and I never saw you."

She threw a thumb up to the unspoken deal. "Mike's not so bad when you get to know him," she turned her attention back to Greg once they were alone. "I hope he didn't bore you to death," her face then softened in a contemplative tone. "I know you're working on your song, but do you have a minute?"

Greg leaned back against the wall. "For you, two…oof," he nearly hunched over when Carmen gave him a full frontal assault in the form of a bear hug. She hugged him like a frightened child hugged their parent. When he glanced down, he saw tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

"Thank you for saving my life," she whispered. "I…I thought I was a…a goner," she choked.

His eyes softened as he gently wrapped his arms around her. "Hey now. No reason to cry. Any decent human bein' would've done that," he patted her non-injured shoulder.

She backed up a little as she wiped her tears off with the blue sleeve of her coat. "I…I also wanted to thank you for saving my mom earlier this year."

Greg froze. By instinct, his first reaction was to deny anything of the sort. Before the words left his mouth however, he stopped as the corner of his mouth tugged up a smidge in acceptance. "That was your mother?" a simple nod was his answer. "How'd you figured?"

"Your eyes. When you were telling me to hang on," her eyes were still glistening but a small smile was forming. "I put two and two together," she then rolled her eyes. "It now makes perfect sense why you were a no show that one time for a recording. But in all seriousness," her expression sobered up again. "I owe you my life, and for my mom's."

"You don' owe me anything," Greg assured. "It's all part of the job," he threw his hand up when Carmen started to open her mouth in rebuttal. "A job I gladly chose to do. An' I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Carmen glanced down briefly before looking up at him again. "At least let me treat you to Starbucks?" she asked meekly.

He couldn't help a small chuckle that came out. "Sure," he wasn't a Starbucks fan, but he knew she'll just keep on insisting. "You're suppose to be home, taking it easy."

"I get stir crazy. Besides, as long as I'm not skipping around, I'll be fine," she saw that Greg was giving her a slight look of admonishment with a cocked brow that he knew was irritating. "Look, I'm not going to repay you by keeling over in the middle of the street from my own stupidity. I promise," she shuffled through her pocket and pulled out an inhaler. "They even gave me one of these just in case."

The November air was brisk that afternoon. True to her word, Carmen did treat Greg to a hot coffee from Starbucks. Because of being cooped up inside for a few weeks, she wanted to sit outside to which Greg flatly refused. They sat at one of the tables in the store near a window. "The place is going to be so dull without you," she stated while taking a sip of her Frappuccino.

The cowboy let out an amused huff, "I'm sure you'll fix that. I'm jus' glad you're alright."

She shrugged, "You know despite all the issues and drama, I gotta admit, Chicago is my kind of town. Not many cities can say that," she blinked in confusion when she saw Greg dig through his coat pocket and handed her a folded up piece of paper.

"That's my personal number," he stated. "If ya ever need anything, in any bind, call me. I'm serious," if there was one thing Greg learned about the dark blonde, it's that she has proven to be trustworthy and responsible. While he did have a cellphone when in his everyday duds, he also carried around a communication line for emergencies that he had on his person. Always.

She glanced at the paper in her hand before turning her attention back at him. "How're you going to do that while in New York…" she trailed off when Greg pointed his finger up, realization dawning on her. "Ah…gotcha," that's right, he was in the League. "I'll keep this safe."

"Keep yourself safe," he bruskly reminded her.

He escorted her to the bus stop. Right before the bus pulled up Carmen turned and hugged him again. This time it wasn't an attack hug. "Thank you again."

She followed the line of people boarding and just when she got on the first step, Greg called out.

"Remember to take it easy and rest!"

"Yes mom!"

The singer shook his head in amusement before turning back around and heading back. Though he considered himself a New York man, he had to admit he'd miss the sights the Windy City had to offer and the people. He looked up as a solitary snowflake floated its way down and landed on his outstretch palm. The first snow of the season. Winter was coming and like a snake shedding its skin, it'd bring a new freshness to the land that Greg could only hope was for the better. As he strutted down the sidewalk, he found himself whistling a tune.

 _And each time I leave, Chicago is  
Tuggin' my sleeve, Chicago is  
The Wrigley Building, Chicago is  
The Union Stockyard, Chicago is  
One town that won't let you down  
It's my kind of town_

 **Fun Facts:**

 **The inspiration for this story came from a dream I had a few years ago. I had a good chunk of it written down, but never really finished it until now. The challenging thing was transferring dream logic to reality.**

 **I wanted to write a story that was more Greg Saunders centric than Vigilante. It adds some flare seeing his everyday life in the mundane (or so he wishes). Overall, even though I enjoy writing all my stories, this one in particular was especially fun and a special treat for me.**

 **And yes, there was at one point Mark was having an important call in his office when he CLEARY heard 'Always I want to be with you and make believe with you, and live in harmony, harmony oh love!'**

 **I am very much still alive. I LIVE!**


End file.
